


A Single Straw

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Coercion, Dubious Consent, Lies, M/M, Mind Games, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cruelty takes on the kindest of forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Straw

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a train ride from Santa Fe to Belin. It was a little nerve wracking, worrying about people looking over my shoulder, haha~  
> From a request on my Tumblr.  
> Enjoy!

Blurr’s training had led him to expect that he would awaken in a cold, dark room, likely chained down or injured badly enough that it wasn’t necessary. His communication lines would be severed, and his helm may possibly be damaged to blind him or otherwise increase the sense of disorientation. His captor may be with him when he booted up, ready to immediately launch into interrogation while he was still half unconscious, or, possibly, would not come to see him for what could be cycles, leaving him to wallow in fear and desperation, slowly wearing down his tanks until he was starving and half crazed, willing to do anything to escape, or, at the very least, dumbed down into submission.

Naturally, he was very surprised when he came online and found himself in what appeared to be a regular room. A regular, empty room. There were no windows, and he didn’t even bother with the door; a large, slab of a slider. There was a berth, which he was laid out on, although it was not padded. There were no other furnishings, but it still managed, somehow, to retain an almost cozy feel, as if it were a regular room that had simply been outfitted as a prison and not architecturally designed thusly.

The walls were firm, though he could hear a light echo on the one to the right of the door if he kicked it hard enough. The room was too small for him to build enough momentum to really get off the ground, but he managed to run almost two thirds of the way to the ceiling once. From the brief glimpse he got, that too seemed seamless. Even the light bands mounted cheerily to the walls refused to budge, and his weaponry was either removed or locked away, rendering him without tools or defenses.

Beyond that, he was still disoriented and lost. How he had gotten here was…a fuzzy concept. He remembered pain, though he felt none now. He remembered darkness. Red. He shook himself, unsettled. Though he wanted answers, he was afraid to find them alone.  

So, recognizing that until further developments panned out he was at the mercy of his captor, Blurr decided to wait.

Contrary to popular belief, this was actually one of his strong suits. He was antsy, certainly, and paced tirelessly, but he was patient. He did not panic. He was fast, faster than whoever had put him here, and when they came for him, he would make his escape. If they somehow prevented that, well, he would double back and make a new plan based on the information gathered in his first attempt. At least he would have some idea then of why he was here.

The wait was not long. He was almost positive that he was under surveillance, despite their being no visible cameras, and the promptness of his captor’s visit only proved his suspicions. A sparse few minutes after he had ceased his searching, the sounds of loud mechanics rumbled lowly through the walls behind the door, slowly increasing in volume until he was certain the door itself was coming down.

Not wanting to appear unprepared, he rose to his feet, backing himself against the center of the berth. It would have been preferable to have his back flat to the wall, but the placement of the thing made that impossible without putting himself into a corner. He was absolutely not risking further entrapment.

When the door did slide aside, however, he was totally unprepared to recognize the reality of his situation.

“I see you are settling in well.”

Shockwave rose from within the hallway, a slim shadow that managed to swallow the room whole. Blurr baulked, shock lancing electric up his spinal strut, and that singular moment of hesitation was his undoing. He bolted straight between the Decepticon’s legs, but it wasn’t enough. Even as he watched the doors shift together in front of him, he was able to make out their twins behind, similarly shuttered. It was a double gate system, at the very least. His speed had been planned for.

Blurr hit the doors just as they closed, anticipating it and bringing his legs up at the last minute. He ricocheted off the seamed center, bending his back so as to just barely slide by the rough treads of Shockwave’s thigh, landing in a smooth skid directly where he had launched from. He remained crouched, defensive. Shockwave watched blankly.

“Yes, I did figure that would happen.”

With nowhere to go, Blurr was forced to face the emotion welling up inside himself.

“You monster!” he shrieked, “traitor! Murderer! You disgusting, horrible creature!”

“I see you are choosing to take this personally.”

Unable to stop himself, Blurr rolled his optics in exaggerated fury.

“ _Choosing_ to take this personally? How could I not take this personally, after what you’ve done, to me, to everyone, after the lies and lies and lies, deception, just like your true nature, Decepticon scum, you led us all on for so long and for what? Nothing! For nothing! You just hurt and hurt and killed and destroyed everything and all the while you let me think you actually-!” he stopped himself, ventilating shakily. His processor reeled, desperately trying to catalogue he information coming at it, overwhelmed by the power of his distress.

Shockwave tisked.

 “Little thing,” he said, “you are right to be angry. I do not hold it against you. But you will learn that I harbor no ill will towards you, and you will feel mutually affectionate towards me, in time.”

Taken aback by the conversational tone of his words, Blurr was hardly able to speak for a moment.

“Af-affection?” he laughed manically.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that you _feel_ things, Decepticon, that you _feel_ affection towards me! I know you don’t think highly of us Autobots but I will never, ever be swayed by such a, a, a weak lie! How _dare_ you!”

Shockwave cocked his helm to the side slowly. Losing some of his fire, Blurr pulled back in on himself, unsure what the gesture meant.

“But I do care for you, agent.”

Blurr flinched.

“You know that.”

And then he transformed.

“After all, you must remember how close we once were _, agent._ ”

This time Blurr really couldn’t stop himself from jumping, struggling back against the berth and falling into it. He sat up rapidly, spark racing.

“Stop that! Stop!”

Longarm Prime took a step further into the room, arms parted wide.

“Stop what? Please, Blurr, be more specific. You know I only have your best interests in mind.”

He was mocking him. Blurr knew that, and yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away, stop his fingers from twitching as he forced himself to hold still, yearning to reach for the face he had missed so dearly.

“Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop!”

Perhaps he could have been more coherently vocal, but this was too much at once.

Shockwave sighed from between Longarm’s lips, shrugging passively.

“I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong.”

He took another step forward and Blurr practically screamed.

“You know perfectly well, you know, you knew all along, I, get out of him! Get out of his face!”

Another step.

“Blurr…”

“Get out! Get out! Getoutoutout!”

Then he was at the berth. Blurr kicked his legs out wildly, scrambling backwards, but the slab was built to Autobot specifications and there was nowhere to go. He could run, he knew he could, circle the room until Shockwave tired of him and left, maybe, at least long enough to calm down, to stay away from his touch, but so caught up in his useless flailing, he could not find the strength to move.

“You don’t really mean that, do you?”

The pain on Longarm’s face was so convincing, Blurr’s spark contracted to mirror it, false as he knew it was. The counterfeit form of his once-love leaned in, raising a knee to the berth.

“I can make this easy on you. I can help you understand.”

“I don’t, I don’t want you to,” said Blurr, voice suddenly so small. He covered his face with his arms.

“Blurr,” Shockwave repeated, and then a hand was on his leg.

Blurr jumped, not quite trying to pull away, choking out a cry that was almost a sob. He wanted to fight, knew he should, but he just couldn’t bear the thought of it, of Longarm as his opponent.

“It’s alright, Blurr.”

The berth creaked; Blurr felt the warmth of a body sliding up to his. The soft stroke of another energy field against his own. He was paralyzed by fear, and desire, and hopelessness. This was not what he was trained for.

“No, no, no it’s not alright,” he said, barely above a whisper, “nothing about this is alright or will ever be alright, I…”

“Shh.”

Hands, too cold to be comfortable but too familiar not to trust, slid slowly around his shoulder, trailed modestly up his leg.

“Let me help you, Blurr.”

“No, no…”

“Please, Blurr.”

His tone was too real. Blurr crumbled.

“Oh, Primus, oh Primus, Longarm!” he wailed, throwing his arms over his mouth as if to shield himself from his own words. Longarm’s touch remained innocent, circling around his shoulders comfortingly, petting him.

“Why is it, why is it so hard?” Blurr muttered, trembling.

“Why is it so hard to stop? After everything you’ve done, after everyone you, you killed, I should hate you, I _do_ hate you, but I still, I still, I, I-!”

“I know,” cooed Longarm, lips so close to his audio receptor, “I know.”

Blurr pressed into his touch, his voice.

 “I have wronged you,” he continued, the embodiment of graceful kindness that Blurr had come to depend on, “I have. And I know there is no way to right these wrongs. Even if I could, it is doubtful I would. But I can make you happy again.”

Panting, shaking, Blurr curled his fingers into Longarm’s chest. He felt sick, as if he’d been drugged. Maybe he had been. It was insane to still feel like this, he knew he must be insane to want it. He did though. So badly.

“How?” he mumbled, miserable.

“I made you happy before, did I not?”

Nodding, Blurr opened his optics.

“I can again. You will find peace here.”

Processor swimming, Blurr pushed into him, dazed.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

He gripped the sides of Blurr’s face lightly, pulling it to his own. Blurr looked into his optics, wide eyed and desperate, and Longarm kissed him.

It was slow and deep. Blurr pulled away instinctively, but Longarm would not let him go, wrapping an arm behind his helm and keeping him locked tightly in place. It did not take long, though, for Blurr to relent, trembling against him and pressing back. How long had he wanted Longarm Prime to hold him like this?

It was not Longarm Prime, though.

They parted and Blurr turned away instantly, horrified by how easily he was convinced. Longarm seemed to expect this, nudging him to face him again. He was so soft, so gentle. Blurr’s spark twisted painfully.

“I will not hurt you,” he purred, “I will allow no harm to come to you again. No evils will touch you here.”

Blurr wanted to believe it.

Coming together again, their lips met with more passion, moving harder together. Longarm pressed his tongue to Blurr’s mouth and he opened without thought. It was better that way. He let himself be pulled into the waiting lap, thick thighs easily supporting his weight. He hunched to continue their contact, vents opening with a waft of steam.

Longarm’s hands pressed between them, finding his waist, his stomach. He clung to those broad shoulders, afraid that if he let go the illusion would be lost and he would be forced back into loneliness, the rank pity of his peers. He was betraying them. They were so kind to him but here he was, wrapped in the embrace of a monster, wanting it, even. What a hopeless fool.

“It’s alright,” soothed Longarm, again parting with him to stroke his back. Blurr realized he was gasping, wracked with grief, and threw his arms fully around Longarm’s neck.  

“You will forget them soon.”

He knew what Blurr was thinking. He always did.

“I don’t want that,” said Blurr, but he remained complacent, even as he was laid back against the hard metal. Longarm pressed in from above, full stomach heavy and warm against his own. Cold lips descended upon him again, his jawline, his neck, light, chaste nips at his cables making him squirm. It was too much, too fast, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight against it. His arms fell limp beside his helm.

“You will want it.”

Longarm leaned in against him, blotting out the light with his frame. Blurr shuddered, feeling a hand grope at his panel and finding himself unable to resist. He opened, gasping brokenly as he lifted his hips. Full submission. There could be no other way. Not when Longarm Prime, his Longarm, was stroking his thigh so sweetly, whispering perfect little phrases into his receptors that he could hardly make sense of, so blown was he. It was all he could do to stay online.

“Please,” he whispered, unsure if Longarm even heard him, “please, I want to want it. I want to, I, I do want it, but I’m scared, but I do, I really do, please!”

“You are fine,” came the reply, smooth as paint, “you are alright.”

His hips bucked up, wrenching another gasp from his frame as fingers slowly traced the rim of his valve, twirling around his external node. Longarm hummed pleasantly, heating above him, and Blurr’s lubrication systems kicked in full gear.

“Longarm!”

“I am here.”

A servo pressed inside.

“Longarm!”

“Shhh.”

Another beside it.

“Longarm, Longarm, Longarm!”

They moved together and he wrapped his legs around Longarm’s waist. His fingers were still lodged firmly inside, wriggling, pressing every node exactly the right way. Longarm practically purred as he contracted, pumping his hips up desperately. There was a brief depressurized hiss and Blurr felt something warm against his leg.

“This is what you want, is it not?”

“I don’t, I don’t know!”

It was the truth, but it did not deter Longarm in the slightest.

His servos removed themselves, and then Blurr felt the questioning probe of a spike tip, blunt and wet, kiss lightly the lips of his valve. He groaned, twisting his neck back and forth.

“I don’t, I don’t, I don’t-!”

Then he pushed inside, puffing out a hot wave of breath, and Blurr howled. It was not so much the sensation that broke him but the realization that this was it. He was interfacing willfully with a Decepticon, a well-known traitor and murderer, and he wanted it so badly he was burning. Longarm cupped his head, keeping it from bouncing roughly against the hard berth beneath them, and ground their hips together.

“Ah…how good you feel, Blurr. How wonderful.” Blurr whined, bucking his hips invitingly.

“You need this,” said Longarm, beginning to pull out, “and so I will give it to you.”

Blurr bounced against the berth, pressing his fingers tight into Longarm’s back as they moved. It was slow and unbearably kind, everything he had always dreamed it would be. He could not bring himself to speak, only allowing small coughs of breath and hissing whines to escape his lips. Longarm panted calmly above, face buried in Blurr’s neck. He could feel his wet ventilations, wanted to kiss him but remained trapped in his pleasure.

The berth groaned quietly. Blurr could not quite gauge the length of their coupling, lost to the world. When he came, he was surprised by it, clenching down hard as his back bowed up. He was quiet about it, almost urgently so, as though noise could break the barrier between Longarm and Shockwave.

Longarm finished inside, equally still, lips parted in a silent ‘O’. Blurr shifted, overstimulated as he was flooded with transfluid. He quaked still, even as they split apart, wet and frightened.

Longarm sat up beside him, a hand on Blurr’s stomach. Blurr stared at the ceiling.

“What now?”

“Mmm?”

Shifting his optics to Longarm, Blurr repeated the question.

“What now? I mean, what, what are you going to do to me?”

Longarm smiled benignly.

“I said I would do you no harm, Blurr.”

Struggling to sit upright, Blurr set his lips grimly.

“But what does that mean? What, what am I going to do now?”

Standing and pulling a rag from his subspace, Longarm hummed.

“Nothing. You will remain here.”  

 “Where is ‘here’?” said Blurr, fear just beginning to lace the edge of his tone. Still cleaning himself, Longarm puffed out a short sigh.

“It matters not. I refer simply to this room.”

“You want me to just stay in here? Just, here?”

“Yes.”

Longarm offered him the rag. He took it dumbly, processing the information he had been given.

“You’re…keeping me prisoner.”

He stiffened, panic creeping over him. Longarm gave him a sad look.

“Blurr…”

“You’re trapping me! You’re keeping me prisoner, against my will, after all you said to me and what we just, what we did, you, you’re still lying and I’m so stupid, I believed you I, I believed you!”

He moved to stand but Longarm grabbed him and pushed him down. He was so much stronger than Blurr remembered, the Decepticon inside his plating rearing its ugly head.

“I did not lie to you.”

Longarm’s voice was very cold.

“How else am I supposed to keep my promises? I must have you like this. To protect you.”

“From what?”

Blurr surged against him, recognizing the futility of his struggles and persisting anyway.

“Oh, little thing,” Longarm frowned, as if to do this pained him deeply, “you will thank me one day.”

He twisted his arm, moving it just above Blurr’s spark casing, and then pushed down, hard. An electrical pulse shocked through his fingers, slamming into Blurr’s system and stunning him. He couldn’t even cry out before warning signs began blaring in his visual feed, momentarily blinding him. By the time he could see again, Longarm was already at the door.

“W-w-w-!” he tried to speak, static displacing his words.

“What are y-y-you tryin-g-g to sah-save me from?”

It was imperative he knew. There was nothing else he had to hold on to but the slim hope that somehow, maybe, this was actually for the better. That he hadn’t given himself in for nothing.

Longarm entered the middle ground between the doors, typing in a code on the back as he passed. If the question gave him pause, he didn’t show it. The doors began to close and Blurr’s spark almost broke.

Then, he turned, Longarm giving way to Shockwave as his optic met Blurr’s.

“Mostly,” he said, with an affection too deep to fathom, “from yourself.”

The door closed.  


End file.
